


lay your weary head to rest

by RoyalHeather



Series: before there was red vs. blue there was project freelancer [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Naptime, RvB Fluff Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalHeather/pseuds/RoyalHeather
Summary: fluff week prompt: wash/york/north: nork hurts wash on accident and decide to make it up to him.There's nothing a good old-fashioned cuddle puddle can't fix.





	lay your weary head to rest

North strides into the medical bay of the _MOI,_ heading directly to where York is seated with his head in his hands. “What happened?” North demands.

Sighing, York scrubs his hands over his face. “He’s fine, okay? Or he’ll be fine.” He sounds as tired as he looks.

After a moment of consideration, North drops into the chair next to him. A couple of nurses are standing in the other corner, discussing something; at first North assumes it’s serious, before one starts braying with laughter. “What happened?” North asks again.

“It’s just – it was _stupid,_ ” says York, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “We were training, he got distracted by something and I thought ‘Hey, it’ll be a great moment to teach Wash to never let his guard down –’”

North sighs. “What did you do.”

Wincing, York says, “I may have broken his nose. And sprained his wrist.”

“ _Jesus,_ York!”

“I thought he’d fight back!” York’s voice goes high-pitched in defense. “I didn’t _want_ to –”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t just be sitting here if you did,” mutters North. “All right.”

With a quiet groan York leans into North’s side, rests his head on his shoulder. In taking a closer look at him, North sees circles under his eyes, a sag to his shoulders. “When’s the last time you slept?”

York shrugs. “Dunno. We were out on assignment and the Director had us running stim-packs, and then we got back and had to debrief, and then I was scheduled for training…”

North grunts in disapproval. But before he can comment, out walks Wash, wrist in a brace and with setting gel over his nose. He’s already got two black eyes forming. When he sees York, he stops short, eyes narrowing. “You.”

Staggering to his feet, York says, “Look, man, I’m really sorry, I am, I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” says Wash, wearily, and starts walking forward again. “You told me.”

This stymies York momentarily, who clearly still wants forgiveness but doesn’t know how to ask for it. North makes an executive decision. “All right, come on,” he says, a cautious hand on Wash’s back; he doesn’t shake it off, which is a good sign. “Wash, what’d they give you? You’ll probably crash soon, right?”

“Wouldn’t let me have any of the good stuff,” Wash grumbles. “But yeah.”

North slings his other arm over York’s shoulder, who immediately leans his entire weight into North. “Rec room, let’s go.”

Alpha Squad does have its perks, and of those is their rec room. Seventy-inch holoscreen, pool table that converts to ping pong, and best of all real leather couches deep and squishy enough to drown in. North pulls York down on the couch with him, lets Wash gingerly seat himself. “I call dibs on movie,” says York immediately. “ _Lord of the Rings_.”

Wash groans, head back against the couch. “We are not watching any of those again –”

“They’re classics, _Washington –”_

“We’re not watching anything.” North chucks a pillow at York. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Only if you spoon me.”

North grumbles out of habit more than anything else. Laying down on his back, he tucks York up against his side; once they’re settled, Wash lowers himself down carefully, facing the opposite direction with his head on North’s shoulder. Reaching up with his free hand, North scratches his fingers through Wash’s hair, and he lets out a deep sigh.

“ ‘M really sorry, Wash,” mumbles York, his head cushioned on North’s arm, having curled around the actual pillow. “Di’n’t mean t’ break your face.”  

“You owe me big time,” says Wash, sleepy. “Next time we’re on shore leave…”

“You want me to suck your dick?”

“What?” splutters Wash, sitting up. “No, that’s not – that’s not what I meant –”

“I’ll do it,” mumbles York, eyes closed.

Sighing, North reaches for Wash to get him to lie back down. “He’s just saying that, Wash, he doesn’t mean it…”

York says something offended but completely unintelligible, the weight of his head already making North’s arm fall asleep. Laying down again, Wash settles his head on North’s shoulder, and North resumes the steady massaging of Wash’s scalp, his hair thick through his fingers.

“Hey, guys,” says South. “We better not be watching _Lord of the_ – oh.” She meets North’s eyes from the doorway, her hair still sweaty and hands still taped from a workout. “Group nap?”

North grins, nods at her to join. “Get over here.”

“Hey, South,” murmurs Wash, reaching out with his good hand. York is already fast asleep, breathing slow and steady.

“Hey, Wash.” She joins them on the couch, cushions sinking with her weight, and curls up with her head on Wash’s stomach. “Jesus, what happened to your face?”

“York.”

“Really? Asshole.” She flicks York on the head; he stirs slightly and mutters something in his sleep. “No one breaks your nose but me.”

“Thanks,” says Wash dryly.

North listens to them bicker, one hand resting on Wash’s head, the other arm still claimed by York. It’s warm with all the body heat, and nothing’s quite as comfortable as an old broken-down leather couch, and his eyes begin to close…

“Hey! Connie!” calls South in a very loud whisper. “C’mere!”

Cracking his eyes open, North sees Connie cross over to South, who immediately grabs her and drags her down, Connie giggling helplessly. “What – what is it –”

“We’re _napping_ ,” says South, wrapping her arms around Connie. “C’mon –”

Wash groans, mutters, “Try’na sleep.”

“Sorry,” hisses South.

“Would you like me to lower the lights, Agent North?” says F.I.L.S.S., quiet and pleasant.

North can feel sleep lapping at him like waves on the lake shore. “Yes, thank you.”

The lights dim, and go dark, and he closes his eyes.

\--

As Carolina passes by the rec room, she sees it’s dark, but with the flicker of lights from the TV. Pausing to open the door, she pokes her head in and sees just about everyone, passed out on the couch. North is wrapped around York, who’s wrapped around a pillow, and Wash is barely visible behind South and Connie. Wash’s feet are on Maine’s lap; Maine, who sprawled over half the couch, head back and mouth open. The muted movie on the TV is a Bollywood romance; it must have been him who put it on.

Silently, Carolina crosses over to them, climbs over South and Connie to work her way in between Wash and Maine. Wash shifts restlessly in his sleep; there’s a brace on his wrist and corrective gel over his nose, he must have gotten hit in training.

South twitches, despite Carolina’s best efforts not to jostle her. “Whozzair,” she mutters, an arm tightening around Connie.

Carolina smiles, tucking herself up under Maine’s arm; he’s _very_ warm. “Just me.”

She’s not sure South even heard her. Leaning into Maine, Carolina watches the brightly-garbed figures dance across the screen, letting her vision blur so they just become moving shapes. Maine’s breathing is as deep and regular as a bellows, and both North and South are snoring gently. Closing her eyes, Carolina lets her head grow heavy, and then she, too, falls asleep.


End file.
